Give Me the Silent, Splendid Sun
by courtneydoe
Summary: In the summer of 2006, Molly Weasley dies suddenly, a tragedy that shocks everyone but Ginny, who feels responsible for her mother's death. This story, told through a collection of Ginny's memories, is the story of her guilt- and Ginny's reconciliation with herself as she struggles to raise her family. Canon from Book 7.
1. The Great Matriarch

**Chapter One**

_Summer 2006_

It was morning. Dew coated the grass as she walked towards the front door of her childhood home. The Burrow was just as she remembered it, topsy-turvy, almost nonsensical- how had it not caved in on itself after all these years? The garden was unruly, perhaps more unruly than ever. She could see an idle gnome or two sunbathing on the crumbling stone bench.

Ginny paused suddenly, feeling the slight breeze playing at the pieces of her hair that she couldn't keep tied into the bun. Every moment she delayed in the front yard was an extra moment she could pretend this wasn't happening. The house hardly looked different- although, perhaps, in a more advanced state of disrepair than she had ever noticed previously. But still, she could deny the truth.

The front door banged open, and out poured Ron holding a tiny baby girl. "Ginny," he whispered as he got closer, wrapping one arm around his sister, the other clutching his baby daughter tightly to his chest.

She said nothing, only nodded, head bowed. They walked into their old home together, the little baby stirring in Ron's arms.

No one else had arrived yet. Ginny could hear her father upstairs, walking about. The living room looked unchanged, except for the clock on the mantle. When Fred had died- _it felt like only yesterday, he was there, pulling her hair and transfiguring her belongings when she wasn't looking-_ an extra description had appeared on the clock, next to 'mortal peril': 'passed'- and that was where Fred's hand had moved, and would forever stay. Another hand had appeared there too. The great matriarch. Where was her mother? It seemed as though she would pop into the living room at any moment, obsessing over Ginny's waistline, despite the fact that she had just had her second child only a few months prior, imploring that she was getting far too thin. Then she would turn to little Rose, and she wouldn't be able to say anything, her eyes would just be shining brighter and brighter, until finally she couldn't stand it and she would have to return to the kitchen to whip them all up something to eat.

The house seemed all too quiet without her mother.

"Harry will be here tonight, with the boys," Ginny whispered. Ron nodded. He took a seat on the couch, and with a quick flick of his wand, a bottle appeared out of thin air.

"Charlie sent me an owl that he'd be here Thursday, the others Friday." Ron stated softly, holding the bottle at an angle while Rose drank. "When Hermione gets off work tonight she'll be here as well."

Ginny nodded, silent. Her father had stopped banging about upstairs. The Burrow was perhaps the quietest she had ever experienced.

The funeral would be held Saturday.

Ginny walked out into the garden, unable to stand the silence. Rose had fallen asleep, and Ron had placed her in the crib he'd set up in his old room, and then he went to speak to his father. Ginny couldn't bear to see her father, couldn't bear to deal with that particular breed of grief yet. Right now she just wanted distraction.

The gnomes were still sunbathing. Despite being the morning, the sun was getting warm quickly. The dew was probably all dried up now. Ginny walked slowly, and snatched the first gnome she saw by the ankles, spinning it around and around and around until it was so dizzy she felt sorry for it, and released. The gnome easily sailed past the old stump and landed out of sight. She threw several more until her arms grew tired and a thin sheen of sweat dotted her forehead. She would have to face her father eventually. Redoing her bun as she walked- it had come undone whilst throwing gnomes- Ginny found her way back to the house.

Her father was sitting at the kitchen table across from Ron, each staring into his own mug of tea. It had only been yesterday; what had Ginny expected?

"Hello, Dad," she said, her voice a whimper.

He looked up at her. His face seemed paler than she had ever seen it, even after he had battled dementors at the Battle for Hogwarts, even after he had laid Fred to rest at Hogwarts. He hadn't shaved. What was once red was now fading into a grey, peppered with a little bit of the old color. His eyes were rimmed with red. "'Lo, Gin," he said softly.

Ron glanced up at her, and then stood up to fix another mug of tea. Ginny slid in a seat next to her father.

"Dad," she began, but she didn't know what else to say. What else was there to say? Her mother was gone.

"It's fine, Ginny," Ron stated, bringing her a steaming mug. "Really. Just..."

Ginny nodded, tears glazing her eyes. Rose cried from upstairs, providing a distraction. Ginny and Ron rose at the same time. "Can I, Ron?" Ginny pleaded.

"Sure," he answered not looking at her, but at his downtrodden father. "Diaper bag's upstairs."

Ginny climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time, trying to place as much distance between herself and her father. Rose smiled when she saw Ginny.

Cradling the baby girl in her arms, Ginny took a seat on Ron's old bed. "It was my fault," Ginny whispered to the baby, her eyes streaming. "All my fault, and everyone knows it. And Dad- your Granddad, he'll never forgive me."

Rose cooed. Ginny rubbed the baby's cheek, a tear sliding down her face.


	2. Flour and Nettles

**Chapter Two**

_Winter 2005_

A tiny little wizard hopped around on a little broomstick, small by any measure, but still far too big for the little boy. His feet, barely brushing the floor, kept making Harry cringe from the corner where he stood watching his son, fearful he would fall. Ginny looked hardly flustered. "Harry, he'll be fine, believe me. Considering how my brothers stayed alive all those years-"

Her eyes grew wide as she realized what she had said, and bringing a hand to her mouth, Ginny turned away from Harry to finish decorating the Christmas tree. Just a last few bits of tinsel were needed to draw the whole thing together. Conjuring up a shining golden orb, Ginny poked and prodded it until it took its place at the top of the tree.

"There," she stated, having recovered from a moment ago, the tears hardly a memory in her eyes. "Much better than a stunned gnome, if I do say so myself."

Little James turned on his broomstick, knocking over a stack of _Witch's Weekly_, to stare at the tree. He clapped his hands, giggling. At only about fifteen months old, James was their pride and joy. Ginny reassembled the stack of magazines with a quick flick of her wand before turning to Harry as he stared down at his son. James was truly the spitting image of Harry, sans the scar and glasses. He smiled up at his mother, and Ginny smiled back.

She glanced at the photos above the mantle. Another family smiled up at them, almost identical. Harry's parents, and a little Harry. The same hair, all three of them. It had always bewildered Ginny, how much she resembled Lily Potter, so much that sometimes she wondered if that was why Harry was so attracted to her.

She felt a hand lay across her swollen, pregnant belly. "Merry Christmas, my love," he whispered, leaning in to smell her hair. Ginny closed her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her. No, she shouldn't feel so insecure. Harry loved her- after all, she was the mother of his children.

"I've thought of what I'd like to name him," Ginny said, as James lept off his broomstick, his pajama'd feet sliding a bit on the carpet. He managed to right himself, and began teetering towards the tree, where Alice, their cat, lay hidden in the bottom branches. "I've been thinking about it quite a lot lately."

Harry smiled. "Me too. But it is your turn dear- I named James, you get to name the next one." He walked over to James and lifted up the little toddler, who giggled and squealed in his father's grasp. "So, what have you decided?"

Ginny sat down. The pregnancy made her tire quickly, although this one was much easier than the first. Ginny preferred being pregnant in the colder months, unlike when she had carried James through the entire summer, for him to be born in September. "Albus," she began, "Albus Severus."

"Really?" Harry raised his eyebrows, glancing back at her. He had been turning one of the teacups into a miniature train to delight his little son. "I wasn't expecting that."

"Well-" Ginny began, but she was cut off, for there was a _crack _split the air, and a moment later, her mother's voice was filling the house.

"Ginny dear!" Molly called from the kitchen. "I've brought some fruitcake and fudge for you and Harry and the baby!" Ginny followed her mother's voice.

Molly Weasley had always been, to Ginny, the most beautiful woman in the world. Plump and bright, she had always provided that sense of home that Ginny cherished. But that had been before. Molly Weasley was thinner now, too thin. Hair that had once been bright shiny orange-red was dull and grey. Her clothes looked far too large on her frail frame. She had the look of someone who had aged too quickly too early.

Ginny smiled weakly at her mother. "Hello, Mum," she greeted. Molly was busying herself at the counter, taking parcels out of a small bag she wore on her shoulder. "How is Dad?"

"Fine, fine," Molly said, not turning around.

Ginny glanced at the packages. "Mum, that's not fudge or fruitcake. Those are just sacks of flour, and a tin of cocoa powder." There was also a small bag of nettles and another bag of something that appeared to be moving.

"Oh, oh, right you are," said her mother, giggling. She turned around, knocking the flour to the floor, where it burst open, covering both of them in powdery whiteness. "Ooops!"

"Mum, are you all right?" Ginny begged, as she pulled out her wand and vanished the flour off both of them and the floor. "Mum? What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing, nothing, dear!" she said, turning back to the counter where the swept the other items back into her bag. "I must have left the fudge at home, I'll have to go back. Hic!" Ginny heard bottles clinking at the bottom of her mother's purse.

"Mum, why don't you floo powder home, rather than apparating?" Ginny was starting to put two and two together, and fearful of flinching, she guided her stumbling mother to the living room. "Or you can stay here for an hour or so, sleep it off..."

"Why, of course not!" Molly admonished as they walked in. Harry glanced up. James was dozing off on the sofa.

"Mum..." Ginny began slowly, not sure how to handle this version of her mother.

Molly just turned towards her daughter, eyes slipping out of focus. "It's fine, Ginny dear! Fine, really!" she stumbled forward, taking a little bit of green powder off the mantle beside the picture of baby Harry with James and Lily. "I'll just head home!"

Molly tossed in the powder, and Ginny watched helplessly as her mother stepped into the flickering green flames, and shouted 'The Burrow, hic!', grinning madly. In a moment, she was gone. Ginny collapsed on the sofa beside James.

"Oh Harry," she whispered. "It's getting worse."


	3. Wasps and Wonder

**A/N: **Hey everyone! Thank you for sticking with me thus far! I wanted to interrupt your reading for just a moment and address a review from SR'96 (thank you for your feedback, by the way, I appreciate it very much!). I realize the chapters may seem a bit on the short side. I'm trying to aim for 1000 words per chapter, or about there. I'm doing this on purpose because I prefer to update more often, and having longer chapters would mean I wouldn't be able to update as often. This story is a collection of Ginny's memories about her mother and her life after the end of book 7, so they're more 'glimpses' than anything else. Please be sure to make notice of the dates that I begin each chapter with. Otherwise, happy reading and thank you for it!

**Chapter Three**

_Fall 2000_

Ginny made her way through the roaring crowd to the box at the very top of the stands, where Ron and Hermione were sitting, waving. Ginny grinned. "Good day for Quidditch, huh?" she greeted them, sitting down and pulling her own purple omnioculars out of her robes. Ron's orange pair and Hermione's periwinkle ones were already on their laps.

"Dad and Mum should be coming," Ron said, his arm draped around Hermione's, his wedding ring glinting. The two had married almost two years ago, in the months after the Battle of Hogwarts, but they still acted like newlyweds.

"This should be an interesting match," Hermione chimed in. "Although I dare say Ron's having a hard time rooting against the Chudley Cannons." She shot her husband a roguish grin, her mane of bushy brown hair subdued in a side bun.

"Now that Harry's playing Seeker for the Wimbourne Wasps I have to switch teams!" Ron pointed to the Wasp he had pinned to the front of his robes. "See?"

Ginny smiled, raising her omnioculars towards the field. The Wasps were all wearing yellow and black robes, and she could make out her boyfriend, who was giving his Firebolt 2.0 a look-over before the game, when two hands were placed on either shoulder.

"Mum! Dad!" Ginny grinned, lowering her omnioculars and turning around to greet her parents. "I'm so glad you could make it! I know Harry's quite nervous about his first match-"

"-Of course we had to come!" Arthur grinned, taking a seat and whipping out his black omnioculars. Molly had her pink pair on her lap. "Harry got us season tickets, and these omnioculars to boot." He was already spinning the dials and adjusting the sight. "Of course, I liked the regular binoculars that he gave me better, seemed more authentic."

Ginny caught her mother's eye, who was clearly having none of that. "I made him leave them at home," she whispered. "Otherwise we wouldn't hear the end of it." She smiled, and for a moment Ginny's heart rose in her chest: her mother had said something so normal, and _smiled_ at her. Could this be a sign? A sign of improvement?

Suddenly, a huge voice interrupted her thoughts. Ginny turned towards the pitch, spying on her omnioculars. It was the commentator, preparing to begin the match.

Several hours later, Ginny and the rest found themselves walking out to the field to greet a winded Harry, who was clutching the first snitch he'd ever caught professionally in his fist. The catch had been a nail-biter: Harry, having spotted the snitch a few inches from the ground near the enemy team's goal post, had taken a steep dive, barely raising up in time to miss the ground.

"Oh, Harry!" Molly hummed stepping forward as they all rushed forward to congratulate him. "You've got horrific grass stains on your robes!"

And so he had, Ginny noticed, hit the ground with his knees. The green stain marred the yellow robes. Her mother pulled out her wand, and in a second the grass stains had disappeared in a puff of steam.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley!" Harry beamed, reaching to put an arm around Ginny. "What a match!"

* * *

At home that night in the dark, Ginny laced her legs around Harry, laying her head on his chest. He stroked her hair slowly. Harry smelled like the Quidditch pitch- fresh grass, and the oil of the broomstick handle.

"I'm so glad," Harry said softly. "I never thought that I'd get the chance to have a real career of my choice. That I loved, not something to do with Voldemort."

"I know," Ginny smiled in the dark. "It was amazing watching you play. I almost wanted to get out there myself!"

"You're a good Chaser," Harry lifted up onto his elbow, grinning. "You could tryout next season. We'd be excellent together!"

"I don't know," Ginny answered, rolling over so she was lying on her back, eyes at the ceiling. "I'm enjoying my job now." Ginny had been working as a reporter and occasional editor of the Daily Prophet. Things had much improved now that the Ministry wasn't leaning on the Wizarding newspaper anymore. She loved her job.

"I know I can't play Quidditch forever. Maybe a few years."

"My mother was really happy today. It was weird." Ginny sat up, recalling the way her mother had smiled, and the hum in her voice. "She hasn't been that happy in awhile. It really seems like things are starting to get better. She seems... almost... recovered."

Harry didn't answer. They both were remembering the void that Molly had sunk into after Fred's death. Nothing had seemed to improve her spirits. It just made it worse for all of them. They were all trying to move on. Ginny's heart broke at the thought of George, and how he was handling it. She knew he had started dating Angelina Johnson, but she hadn't seen him in awhile. He could hardly stand to be around his mother, what with her moaning constantly of his missing brother. Not like he needed the reminder...

"I was thinking about what I wanted to do after I finished playing Quidditch," Harry said into the dark, after the pause. He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. "I was thinking... maybe about going to Hogwarts. And becoming a teacher."

"You'd be the best!" Ginny smiled, rolling over on top of him. "Defense Against the Dark Arts- you got an O in your O.W.L.s, didn't you? And the highest marks too, for your N.E.W.T.s when you came back to Hogwarts and graduated with me?"

"Yeah," Harry murmured, her red hair a curtain over his face. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her gently, and then more hungrily. Ginny felt him slide his tongue in her mouth as she straddled him...


	4. The Beginning of the End

**A/N: **To SR'96: thank you for your continued reviews, and why the Wasps? To tell you the truth, it was the first team that came to mind, and I liked the idea of not doing the Chudley Cannons.

**Chapter Four**

_Spring 2002_

Today was the day.

Ginny sat in front of the mirror, gazing at her reflection. Her orange hair had been combed and curled by the careful hands of her sister-in-law, Fleur; the Goblin-made tiara rested on her head, sparkling in the mirror. She wore the traditional witch's wedding robes, of a soft gauzy material. Hermione sat on a bench behind her, straightening her own pale blue dress robes. Luna stood by the window, her bright yellow dress robes dazzling in the sun setting behind her, her white-yellow hair bundled up on the top of her head with a rather odd flower pinned in it.

Harry had proposed to her on Christmas. Ginny mused upon it for a moment, staring down at her nails, painted a pale pink. They had gone for a walk in Hogsmeade, where they had been thinking of buying a home...

_The snow was falling down in beautiful flakes from the twilight sky. They had paused before the Three Broomsticks, the bright light from inside painting silhouettes in the drifts. Harry had turned to her, his green eyes smiling in a way she hadn't seen before. His glasses had slipped down his nose and Ginny had pressed her face into his, pushing them back up with her own nose, before Harry suggested they walk a bit further. Ginny, looking longingly at the Three Broomsticks (how nice a butterbeer sounded in the frigid cold!) only nodded, and followed him as he grabbed her hand and continued further down, away from the warmth of the shops and past the Shrieking Shack. On and on they went, until finally they reached a small clearing. Harry knelt down and took out a small box where inside nestled a tiny ring with a bright ruby set in white gold. _

_"Ginny," Harry murmured softly, staring up at her, eyes shining in the moonlight, "Will you?"_

"It's about time, Ginny!" Luna called, interrupting her reverie. Ginny stood up quickly and turned to her friends. Hermione was grinning. A soft knock came at the door, before it opened slowly. Her father stood there, in black dress robes, smiling grimly.

"Dad? Everything all right?" Ginny noticed his smile wasn't quite reaching his eyes.

"Of course, of course, pumpkin," her father said airily. He looked down upon his youngest child, who looked so womanly and grown up in her wedding robes. "My, you remind me of your mother on our wedding day..."

A few minutes later, Ginny waited with her father in the procession line. First it would be Neville and Luna, then Ron and Hermione- the best man and matron- and then Ginny and her father. Harry would already be there, waiting for her at the end of the aisle. From the procession line, Ginny could see the front row of seats, and only the tops of Harry's shoes. But one seat was empty- and no mane of red hair-

"Where's Mum?" Ginny whispered tensely up to her father, as the music began to play. Neville and Luna began their slow trek up the aisle.

Her father avoided her eyes. "I'm so sorry honey, I know how important this day is to you-"

"-Where is she, Dad?" Ginny slid her arm out of his, and her fingers closed tensely around her bouquet, knuckles white. "Where is she?"

"It's really better she isn't here," Arthur murmured, his eyes wide at his daughter. "She is indisposed."

"No, you mean she's drunk," Ginny retorted harshly, doing all she could to keep her voice down. Ron and Hermione had shot worried looks back at them before straightening their faces and following Neville and Luna.

"She's not having an easy go of it," Arthur breathed. "Now really honey, please, for the sake of your guests!"

Ginny scowled. She couldn't believe this. Her mother, drunk and absent on her wedding day? She felt betrayed. Sighing audibly, Ginny put her arm through her father's again and positioned the bouquet around her midriff.

"Would all rise for the bride?" a voice called. This was their cue. Trying to force a smile, Ginny made the slow walk towards her future husband. The guests were all standing for them, and Ginny had never felt more beautiful- but she found she could not enjoy this moment, knowing her mother would not be there to give her one last smile before Ginny went from being a Weasley to being a Potter.

Harry looked amazing though, and Ginny knew she couldn't ruin this day for him. How long had he lamented about how afraid he had been, after the fall of Voldemort, that he never would have had normal days like this? She finally reached him, his glasses gleaming silver, his eyes that sparkling green, his hair tousled and inky black, a wider smile than she had ever seen. Ginny turned to her father, who kissed her cheek quickly, whispering, "I'm sorry, my dear. How I do love you," before taking a seat next to what would have been her mother's, but now sat empty. Another empty seat was just a few seats down the row, between Charlie and George, a small Puking Pastille lay on its surface. Fred wasn't here of course- _but it wasn't as though he had a choice_, Ginny thought angrily, doing her best to keep that smile on her face.

The ceremony was quick, and Ginny found herself conjuring the golden ribbons with her wand that twirled around their arms before too long. A grinning Harry kissed his blushing bride as the entire audience clapped.

An hour later, Ginny was sitting next to Harry at the Bridal Table, with Hermione and Ron to Harry's right and Luna and Neville to Ginny's left. "It's time to cut the cake!" Hermione announced. Ginny and Harry rose up to the towering cake with sugared violets and candied ivy, a gift that a long recovered Winky had spent all week working on. It was beautiful, although perhaps a bit much.

"Oh Merlin, what a cake!" a screeching voice shouted, causing Harry and Ginny to pause as they, hands linked, had just sunk the knife an inch below the frosting. Ginny searched for the source, only to see her mother, in her pajamas, hurrying up to them, eyes out of focus, a large bottle of Elf's Brandy in her hand . "My oh my what a cake!"

Ginny let go of Harry's wrist, even as the cake began emitting shooting stars, an interesting touch of Winky's. She stormed towards her mother, her long robes billowing out behind her like a great big cloud. Her hair had come undone a bit, and even Hermione agreed later she looked positively scary, with an intense angry look on her face.

"How dare you!" Ginny shouted, not caring who heard what, even as a shocked Harry stared after her, unsure of what to do. "You miss my wedding, show up _DRUNK _to my reception? Who do you think you are?!"

Molly only smiled at her. "Why, Ginny, you're getting married today! How could I have forgotten?" Molly hiccuped loudly, and dropped the bottle of brandy on the floor where it smashed into pieces, glass bits scurrying. The brown alcohol would have soaked the bottom front of Ginny's dress if she hadn't thought to raise her robes quickly.

"Yes Mother," Ginny snarled, anger welling up inside her. "How could you?" She felt the tears that were threatening, but willed them back. "Get out."

Molly looked startled. "B-but Ginny dear-"

"Fred didn't have a choice not to be here, Mother," Ginny yelled, knowing that what she was saying was perhaps too much over the line. But she didn't care. She couldn't hold it back. "Fred didn't have a choice- but you DID!"

"Don't bring up my b-baby," Molly whimpered, tears pouring down her cheeks. She stumbled backwards, her foot catching on her robes. "D-don't s-say th-that about F-Fred..."

"I wish he was here instead of YOU!"

With that, Molly apparated away, leaving only a brown puddle with shards of glass, and a very tearful Ginny, who instantly regretted everything she had just said.


End file.
